Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He had messed up.

As in undoubtedly, unquestionably messed up. Well, this current mess up was not, in fact, one of his biggest mess ups he had ever made, but it still adds to the still growing list of stupid mistakes he had done in his lifetime.

“No. No. No. Hermione is going to kill me.” Harry fidgeted impatiently for the telephone box to open up again.

“Come on!” He hissed.

Harry pride himself in working under stress very well. As in taking out criminals for a living without a sweat, supporting his kids and keeping them mostly out of trouble (usually Ginny got a better handle on that, particularly involving James related problems). Although, he was bit panicked considering, of all days, the man had to showed up on a Monday, and Harry had practically gave the muggle the passcode into the Ministry and worst, was even tricked by the man. What kind of Head of the DMLE was he?!

No. It's not that big of a deal. It’s still early in the morning so the Ministry isn't full yet, and is usually full by eight thirty. It’s–

He looked at his pocket watch.

–seven thirty. I could get the muggle out before he sees too much and Obliviate him all before Hermione or anyone founds out. I can do this. I can do this.

There was a click and Harry nearly took the telephone booth door off it’s hinges trying to get in and then punched in the very same numbers he had stupidly gave to the muggle.

ooOOOoo

When the door opened again, Harry saw the familiar enchanted ceiling that was the impressive height of a tower which extends upward and upward. The glossy obsidian like marble stretch across the floor meeting similar materials on the walls. The atrium was already starting to fill in with familiar early Ministry workers passing each other focus on their getting to their office or doing their daily routines. Most greeted Harry cheerily, but Harry returned his own greetings distractedly as his green eyes still flitted around. Harry did a quick survey of the surrounding area for the tall, curly haired man.

Finally, he spotted the man who had cause Harry’s first headache of the day. (And It was going so well). The muggle was observing the wizards and witches that walked passed by with furrowed eyebrows while tapping his chin. Harry narrowed his own eyes and made his way towards the muggle as other workers walked around him.

“Hey, you. Sir, you can’t just get to rushing off into some place when someone tells you not to.”

The man seemed to not have heard him. Ignoring me would be the better word to describe his action. He didn’t know why the silence of the other man irritated him so much. Harry thought that the conversation earlier rubbed him the wrong way, he was wrong. Harry was about to open his mouth again but didn’t get the chance to when he was cut off before he could say anything.

“This isn’t a average organization, it’s more of a governing body. An old one. The architecture here is aged and the pillars are old fashioned or out of time, thus revealed this building was already built years ago. I can’t tell exactly when, but it was possibly established in the early 1700s. And judging that the disguised entrance to get here was through a telephone booth which is really a lift if entered with correct passcode, adding the audio speaker voice calling this place a ‘Ministry’, it suggests that this the type of government run by multiple departments, but in secret.”

“Wha– How–” The wizard felt his heart drop to his feet.

“This isn't even a normal governing entity, that much I can tell, but what makes this place unique? Something about the ‘Ministry of Magic’ should be a clue. I presume this isn't a cult since this is too well organized, a hidden society perhaps?” The man tilted his head up.

How in Merlin would he knew that?! Unless, this may one of Ron’s stupid pranks and this man really isn't a random muggle. Letting out a sigh, Harry let his shoulders relax a little.

The man muttered, “High projected ceiling. The lift must have traveled lower than I thought.”

“I’m sorry, but if Ron put you up to this, tell him he got me.”

The man paused and decided to finally look directly at Harry. “I don’t know anyone with a name ‘Ron’ you speak of, though it’s possibly shortened for Ronald which is the Scottish form of the Scandinavian name Ragnvald, which was derived from the Old Norse Ragnvaldr –”

“Whoever put you up to this.”

The man waved his hand in a dismissive way. “I don’t play childish pranks and I certainly wasn't put up to anything. I merely had the moment of interest in the why a man in insultingly distasteful attire – ”

“Hey!”

“ – would assume that I would have worked in a secret governing endeavor, then proceeded to tell me the numbers to get in without so much of an identification.”

Harry felt his irritation spike, which was saying some since it doesn't happen often considering what his past was like.

“Alright, that's enough. I don't know who you are, but you can't possibly know any of the things you said earlier unless you already know about all this,” Harry gestured around,”so I’m guessing that you’re just trying to pull a joke on me.”

“Oh no. I deduced all the things I just said.”

A headache started to form just by listening to this man speak and being in his valiancy. “You –”

A frantic voice called, “Mr. Potter!”

Great, another problem. Never a day of rest for the veterinary savior of the wizarding world, is there?

Taking a deep breath, Harry turned to see his brunette secretary heels clicking quickly towards him, clutching some hastily put together files against her chest, “What is it Miss. Robin?”

After catching her breathe, the younger witch responded, “There was another one break in. This one still had the same exact situation, cryptic message and all, no magical signatures, and the wards were still intact. No tampering.”

“Did you sent in the Investigation Team?”

“Already done, sir.”

“Whenever they are done, send me a message with their results as soon as they are able.” Harry muttered, “This is the fifth one this month.” In his head, he tried to put together the correlation of some of the information of each case he had gotten out of these recent break ins. They all hadn't matched up besides the similar aftermath.

Harry was about ask to his secretary if there was any new information or anything different at the scene, when she perked and straighten her posture, “Oh, did you hired a new recruit Mr. Potter?”

“What?” Harry was confused for a moment until he recalled the strange man.

“Of course.” The man answered.

Harry sputtered, “Wha – wait – N–”

She blushed. “My name is Addie Robin, Mr. Potter’s secretary. May I inquire your name, sir?”

The man had a calculating sort of look that he thought only Hermione had, but it was different in a way. If possible, even more scrutinizing. “If you must know, the name is Sherlock Holmes. And before you say anything else, I have no inclination in having any romantic relation with you now, nor in the future. Though a piece of advice, don’t try to be so forward and have notions of romances, it doesn't suit you.” The man, Sherlock, rolled his eyes then continue observing the workers passing by.

Addie looked both baffled and chest falling at the same time, but decided to respond, “Okay.” She cleared her throat and turned her attention back towards Harry, “Will that be all, Mr. Potter?”

Harry was still trying to process the conversation in the form of, Who the hell is this person?! “Just – just send the case files to my office, I’ll look over them later.” Addie nodded dazedly.

After his secretary basically walked – ran – away from the two men, Harry spun to face the man who was named Sherlock. “You can't just say stuff like that to people. Also, stop playing this ridiculous game, Mr. Holmes. I’m not going to repeat myself, who are you?”

“Apparently, the person who is going to solve your case for you.” Sherlock gave a look that seemed to screamed, ‘Are you an idiot?’

“What?! No, I– Who exactly are you? First you acted like a muggle–”

“You mention that term earlier, ‘muggle’ which I am surely not, considering the exact definition of the term in which a person lacks a particular skill and therefore inferior.” Sherlock snorted and curled his nose in a way that seem left a bad taste in his mouth. “Although, I unfortunately know a man called Anderson that would definitely be the embodiment of that term.”

Sherlock then paused, “May I see your paper?” Without waiting for a response, the other man took Harry’s forgotten Daily Prophet from him and gaze at the cover.

Harry closed his eyes to take a much needed breath. Then he frowned at the other man earlier confusing words, deciphering them, and suddenly Harry went stiff with realization.

“You’re not suppose to be here.”

Though, Harry's words was left in the empty air when he looked back at the spot where the muggle was earlier.

Chapter Text

Being a leading figure for a group is usually a daunting task, but one is perfectly capable of being one portrays the proper traits. A type of person who could hold their ground and take matters swiftly taking the route of the higher probability of success. Take account every problem, find efficient solutions, and then apply them. Being a leading figure of a government body has the same principles, except with the extra delicate politics of leading, otherwise the same.

Thus when the Minister of Magic, Hermione Jean Weasley née Granger got a contacted by the Ambassador of Magical and Muggle Relations, she knew that there would be delicate matters afoot.

It had crossed Hermione’s mind that there was a possibility of a political problem or a simple social call. She couldn't very well tell as she was contacted by a short but very perplexing message of: “Let’s have tea,” with a street address just below. The brunette had recognized that it was an upper class street in Muggle London.

Nevertheless, strange.

Hermione was supposed to be meeting with someone in a few hours, but now the witch just hoped that she will be okay waiting for her considering the short message seem to send off bells in the witch’s head. Hermione had already learned to trust her instincts, so she took a calming breath and straightened her posture. Making sure everything was in order, she headed out of her office. As she walked out, Hermione’s eyes landed on the familiar golden blond witch at her desk.

“Alisa?”

Alisa, the young Junior Assistant, promptly brought her attention to the older witch from her paper work. “Yes, Minister Weasley?”

“I have a relative visiting this afternoon. Please inform her that I would be running late and I would come meet her as soon as I get back. Everything else is covered for the day, yes?”

Alisa Fay nodded and looked over of Hermione’s schedule when the younger women waved her wand for the parchment. “Everything is covered till 3 pm as you have requested.”

Hermione smiled, “Thank you. I should be back around an hour if you need to inform me about anything.”

ooOOOoo

Usually, Harry would call himself levelled headed in tight situations. One example was when he and his team went on a raid on an underground smuggling bust a couple months back. Apparently, they had missed the signs of explosive runes until one of his team tripped it. Let’s just say since the elder Potter had experience (he is not proud of the fact) with dark enclosed spaces, thus he didn't react as badly as some of the others had.

Who knew Arron Scott had claustrophobia? The bloke could jump off a five storey building to catch a burglar without hesitation, but goes into hyperventilation when stuck in a tight space.

Frankly, Harry's mind was descending into confusion and slight panic. One moment a perplexing conversation with a muggle, who stole his newspaper, was in front of him, the next ‘poof’ gone. A muggle can’t just disappear!

“Morning Harry.”

The frantic wizard jumped a foot in the air and nearly snapped his neck when he whipped around at the sound of his name to see a familiar man with horn-rimmed glasses stood before Harry who gave a single nod of greetings. Though the other man frowned when he saw Harry’s attempt on clearing the surprised look on his own face.

“Are you quite alright, Harry? You seem a bit jumpy.”

After he’d fixed his composer, Harry replied, “Uhh, morning Percy. And fine, I’m fine.” One of the the older Weasley’s eyebrows raised up.

He still had the distinct shade of ginger on his head, though seemed to have thinned considerably in contrast from Harry’s younger memories of the other man. Harry then noticed that Percy was carrying a painstakingly organised folder in his right hand and a brown package under his left arm.

Harry wouldn't say he was particularly close to his brother-in-law, but ever since the War at Hogwarts, Percy had changed into a completely different person. Who wouldn't after they all went through hell and back? He was still very much a prick at times and a stickler for the rules but was surprisingly laid back ever since. Though, he has opened up to a morbid sense of humour that scares even Harry sometimes which almost makes him miss the younger more pompous, prick Percy.

Almost.

In addition, they do collaborate occasionally when Harry needed clearance with special international Portkeys for certain cases. Having a brother-in-law who was Head of the Department of Magical Transportation has their advantages after all, especially after a weekly family Sunday brunch. Other than that, the only contact they have with each other was merely passing by each other on their way to work or meet up with family. Percy usually has his eyes glued to a parchment writing reports and such. Mostly ignoring other workers with the set intensity of getting his work done.

Currently, the older Weasley did not certainly have his eyes glued to a piece of parchment.

“Of course. And while I have your attention, I wanted to speak to you about the Portkeys you asked me to schedule today. Oh, I need to get your reports for some transport files from last week out of the way as well.”

“Oh, uhh reports. Do need them now?”

“Before the end of today preferably. And about the Portkeys –”

Harry hadn’t heard the rest of Percy’s words when the younger wizard’s emerald like eyes suddenly zeroed in on a particularly suspicious movement across the atrium.

“ – would doing that be fine with you, Harry?”

“Yes, I mean– can I get back to you at a later time? I need to do something. . .”

“I suppose so, but – ”

The elder Potter made a quick work of crossing the distance through the growing crowd, leaving his slightly confused brother in-law to fret over whatever important he had to say.

ooOOOoo

Two assessments ran through Sherlock’s head as he was being dragged swiftly by his arm behind a familiar short, brunette women with substantial force he couldn’t fathom she was capable of.

Assessment one was the uncomprehending question of why was she here when the man knew with concrete certainty that she was not supposed to be here, but yet, she was. Sherlock had known the women enough to deduce that she wasn't the type who would visit a government facility on her own terms, let alone a secret one. Thus the question of why.

Her clothes doesn't match the apparent robe policy, but they are what he could tell was that they were her taste. Although, considering they were slightly above casual, the clothes virtually scream visiting someone she hadn't seen in a considerable time. Most likely a relative.

The second assessment was the nagging sensation that he was missing a piece of information that would put together the new unique riddle he had just discovered. A secret Ministry under the grounds of London that he himself didn't knew existed. To add to the complexity of this puzzle was that the facility couldn't possibly exist. No, cross that, isn't suppose to exist at all.

This was getting far more interesting.

Once she yanked the taller man behind a non-descriptive column, she spun around to face him with an expression of which he could describe as anger. He did noted the fact that she kept glancing around him out to the sea of simple minded workers.

Shifting eyes in nervousness – no, she was assess her surroundings. That can't be right. Pursed lips, fidgeting hands – ooh – she knows something.

Before a single word leave her lips in a burst of anger would, the taller man inquired a question.

“What are you doing here, Molly?”

Molly sputtered indignantly, then narrowed her eyes. The brunette whispered harshly, “No! Stop it! Just stop! For once in your life, stop! You don’t get to ask that question! I should be asking you that! You’re not even supposed to be here, so what are you doing here and how did you even found the entrance?!”

“By chance. Your familiar about this place?”

“I can’t - Stop it! You are not going to do whatever you usually do right now, Sherlock. You have to get out before you get into deeper trouble than you already are.”

Sherlock rose an eyebrow. “Familiar. This place is familiar to you,” he stated simply.

A frustrated growl left Molly’s lips, but she soon gathered her barons. Then Sherlock saw her froze and paled slightly. By impulse, Sherlock sidestepped the shorter women’s lunge, effectively preventing her from grabbing his arm again.

Sherlock gave a causal gaze over his shoulder to see what had caused Molly’s initial panic.

Well, Sherlock wasn't particularly surprised to see the black haired man’s eyes sweeping through the atrium. The detective had predicted that the other man would be quite persistent as any other law enforcement type.

Sherlock could tell that Mr. Potter was experienced in his field, and he would likely be competent at it judging from his soldier like stature that reminded the detective of a certain flat mate. Though, the strange man seemed to be ever so slightly more impulsive stance compare to John.

Or so he assume at the moment.

The consultant detective smirk a little. Sherlock suspects that Molly wasn't exactly afraid of the Mr. Potter, but cautious with recognition. Not with familiarity exactly, but she knew of him.

“Molly, what exactly is this place?”

The woman flinched slightly, “I – I can't tell you.” The younger women sighed and looked back at the uniquely green eyed man nervously.

“Can't or won’t?”

Sherlock could tell her eyes flickered up at him, but didn't acknowledge it.

“Can't.”

The taller man stood silently in thought. The silence lasted only lasted a few moments before Sherlock stated, “Let's go meet Harold again.”

“What?! Are you out of your mind?! No, nevermind, I should’ve known you would do something like that.” She paused then muttered, “And his name it Harry, just Harry.”

However, before Sherlock could even move to gather more information out of the other frantic man in the middle of the early morning crowd, there was a certain tone in Molly’s voice that gave the consultant detective a pause.

“You can’t appease your curiosity or try to understand any of this. You won’t be allow to.”

Chapter Text

“Sorry that I’m a bit late, you caught me at an inconvenient time. I may have to cut our meeting a bit short as a result unless whatever you contact me for holds precedent, Mr. Holmes,” Hermione pulled out the chair and sat down. 

She fixed her blazer and looked up at the man known as Mycroft Holmes. His black suit looked recently pressed and clean and his umbrella leaned up against the table. The balcony where Mycroft organized to have their tea overlooked a calm lake and a vivid green treeline sat behind it. Casually Mycroft gestured towards a teacup already set out for Hermione.

“It shall be a short meeting then, Minister Weasley. Someone forced my hand and I feel it would be wise to give you a warning of sorts especially as it concerns your Statute of Secrecy,” Mycroft reached for his teacup and lifted it to his lips.

Hermione froze as she reached for her own cup and took a deep breath. She continued to pick up her cup and brought it up to sip, “Well, that may certainly hold precedent. What sort of warning?”

“My younger brother,” Mycroft responded frankly.

Confusion swept through the witch’s face, “Your younger brother?”

The man nodded, “He got into your Ministry of Magic.”

The witch leaned forward with sharp eyes, “How?”

“Surprisingly your Head of Law Enforcement.”

“I see,” Hermione sipped her tea calmly. “And I take it you want your brother to be Obliviate once we find him?”

“Oh, I don’t believe that will work on him.”

One of Herminone’s eyebrows rose up, “Your younger brother is a muggle, is he not?”

“Certainly, much like myself in fact. I expect he’ll likely find his way back again if any part of his memory is altered or otherwise missing. It’ll just bring more of his attention to your world,” Mycroft sipped his tea.

“What do you suggest I do considering you called me directly to warn me about him?” 

“Offer him a job as a consultant detective for your Investigation Department.”

Hermione’s eyebrow rose higher, “Are you giving me a recommendation?”

“Indeed,” Mycroft gave her a pleasant smile. “My brother tends to get himself into troublesome situations so I like to at least make them less troublesome.”

Humming to herself thoughtfully, Hermione adjusted her grip on her teacup and spoke, “I’ll forward your recommendation if you give me a portfolio of his work.”

“Certainly.”

Both Hermione Weasley and Mycroft Holmes finished off their teas and they both placed their respective teacups on their saucers with a click. 

ooOOOoo

“Elaborate,” Sherlock stared at Molly neutrally.

The woman took a deep breath, “Look, Sherlock, all of this,” Molly gestured her arms around, “is very classified to the general public.”

“You’re part of the general public, though if I were to make a bet, you’re somehow a special case. Someone who is related to this so-called secret society.”

Molly tiredly rubbed her forehead, “Something like that.” 

“You were planning to meet someone that currently works here,” the detective stated simply.

With a defeated expression, Molly sighed, “Of course, you would pick up on that.”

Sherlock snapped his fingers and exclaimed, “Cousins! That’s who you’re going to visit. I’m right, am I?”

A groan of exasperation could be heard from the woman. When Molly looked up back at Sherlock she froze and her eyes widened as she stared behind his shoulders. At the same time, a cough could be heard behind him. 

With a clip of his shoes, the detective swiftly turned around. Stood there was the one known as Harry Potter with sharp green eyes squinting at the man that cause his irritation.

“You have a lot to answer for, Mr. Holmes.”

“No, I do not,” the detective gave Harry a wry smile. “Come along, Molly.” 

Molly had another protest ready but that died as soon as she watched the detective taking off towards the red phone booth situated on the other side of the atrium. The Head of the DMLE was prepared this time though. A flash of red light shot toward the running figure. However, Harry wasn’t prepared for the other man throwing himself in a dive to the left and dodging the light. 

The red light unfortunately hit a familiar ginger-haired man with horn-rimmed glasses. This led to shouts and confusion spreading through the atrium like wildfire. People proceeded to shove each other to get away from the commotion. An older wizard that may or may not have been a member of Wizengamot was pushed into the fountain. The paper and interdepartment memos were flung into the air increasing the confusion.

The people scattering knocked over two wizards transporting a crate of nifflers that was meant to be delivered to the Department of Magical Creatures. The crate smashed to the floor. Typically, the crate would be carefully warded so dropping the crate would not disturb the magical creatures as well as meticulously placed spells to prevent the crate from breaking. That very morning, however, tired workers forgot to put up those exact wards and spells on the crate. Rodent-like creatures sprung out of their crate wrecking havoc to get towards the closes shiny objects in the vicinity not caring about the screams of the wizards and witches scrabbling away to protect their watches, jewelry, and anything particularly shiny. 

“Bollocks.”

Molly gave Harry a side eye as they both stood stiffly as they saw the elusive detective disappear in the chaos. It was at that moment they spotted a familiar brown haired woman apparating across the hall with a minister pin glinting on the collar of her blazer.

“Bollocks,” Harry repeated.

ooOOOoo

“HARRY JAMES POTTER!!! Never in the 29 years I have known you have I seen such blatant irresponsibility! I thought after all this time you would start using that brain of yours! But no! I come back after an hour and the Ministry is in utter chaos! It’s just plain luck only twenty-two people have concussions! Don’t get me started on the nifflers!” Hermione stared daggers at the man of her ire.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly, “It could have been worst?”

“Two nifflers jumped me!”

“I stunned them immediately when I noticed your pin from across the atrium,” Harry pointed out.

The witch’s eyes narrowed.

“I’ll shut my mouth.”

Taking a deep breath, Hermione plopped on her office chair and rubbed her forehead in exhaustion, “How did this whole mess start exactly?”

Harry cleared his throat and steal his nerves, “Err, it start off when I accidentally gave a muggle the passcode to the telephone entrance of the Ministry. Then when I tried to catch him by stunning him I stunned Percy instead. It sort of escalated from there.” 

“Harry.”

“Yes, Hermione?”

“I’m very close to throwing this book at you,” she gestured towards a rather heavy looking book titled "Magical Laws and Conducting Yourself Through Politics."

“I’m really sorry, Hermione. This was all my fault, I’ll accept any consequences you’ll give me,” genuine regret was thick in Harry’s voice.

The witch sighed, “Apology accepted. You have multiple other people to apologize to as well as one to Percy. I don’t think he would be particularly happy to see you next time we meet up with the rest of the family. You can make it up to me by doing your job.”

Harry smiled thankfully, “That reminds me, I still need to track that muggle down to Obliviate him.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Flabbergasted, Harry responded, “You don’t need to send someone else on him. I let him into the Ministry. I should be the one who fix my oversight by Obliviating him.”

Straightening her back, Hermione clasped her hands together, “I actually received a recommendation that we could offer him a job as a consultant detective for us, well for your department.”

Blinking rapidly, Harry eloquently responded, “Huh?”

“Well, the muggle turns out to be the Ambassador of Magical and Muggle Relations’ younger brother,” informed Hermione.

“Younger brother?”

“And looking into his portfolio, it really is a rather impressive background in solving murder cases in particular.” A thick folder was pushed toward the dumbfounded wizard.

“Murder cases?”

Abruptly, Hermione clapped her hands together, “Now, I really do need to get going since I’ve been delaying my lunch with my cousin.”

“You have a cousin?”

“You don’t need to keep repeating words I’ve already said to you, Harry. Yes, I have a cousin,” the witch stood up and prompted Harry to stand up as well. “His contact number should be in the folder. His brother mentioned he prefers texting which I’m sure you can figure out.”

“Texting?”

Hermione smiled at Harry and proceeded to usher him towards the door, “Yes, Harry, texting. Muggles text now days.”